


Savage in Some Cause

by inksheddings



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, Post Episode: s01e06 Star of the Morning, hatesex but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8478802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: Marcus offers Tomas no absolution. Tomas is fine with that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. Not sure where this came from. I'm slightly concerned there might be some OOC going on, but I'm happy with the end result. So be it! 
> 
> Definite spoilers for the tagged episode within this story.
> 
> Title from a quote by William James: "We are all ready to be savage in some cause. The difference between a good man and a bad one is the choice of the cause."

It hurt, almost too much, but Tomas’ erection seemed to appreciate that extra edge of reality and remained hard, trapped between his belly and the mattress.

“Did you fuck her again?” Marcus asked, his mouth pressed against Tomas’ ear. The vibrations that ran through Tomas’ body at the sound of his voice, so close and so harsh, only added to the confusion between body and mind.

“Did you? Did you fuck her? Lick her? Did she suck you off? She gave you keys and so you turned the damned lock?”

Marcus pulled out slowly but slammed back in fast, over and over. Tomas felt as though they’d been doing this for hours, but it couldn’t have been more than one single hour since he’d come home from Jessica’s place, showered, and then found Marcus on his couch, waiting. Tomas had been surprised to see him, after their last conversation. He’d been even more surprised to see Jessica’s keys and the slip of paper she’d written her address on in Marcus’ hand. 

“Tell me,” Marcus demanded, biting Tomas’ ear lobe, encouraging him to rub himself against the sheets. 

“No,” Tomas replied at the end of another hard thrust. “No, we just . . . talked. She said I could come to her and just…”

“And just what?”

“And have a place away from everything. No pressure.”

Marcus had nearly pulled out and yet instead of slamming back inside he stopped, his breath still echoing in Tomas’ ear. “No pressure, eh?” he said, his voice that strange cross between bitterness and humor that was so Marcus. “What—a _safe_ place away from the Church? From your parish? From Casey? From demons and exorcisms and the endless crush of responsibilities that you cannot otherwise extricate yourself from? From me?”

Tomas didn’t know how to answer. It’d be a lie to say no, but it wasn’t quite true to say yes, either. Jessica was there. Jessica loved him. But despite her assurances, her presence wasn’t truly free from expectations. She expected him to come, so she gave him keys. She expected him to be conflicted, so she soothed him with a meal and reassuring words. 

Tomas didn’t answer Marcus, just wanted him to push back in; to overwhelm him like he did when he’d come off the couch and shoved Tomas into the bedroom, leaving the keys and the crumpled note on the coffee table along with a three-day old newspaper and a stained empty coffee cup.

“Did you want to fuck her?” Marcus asked.

Tomas pushed backward, trying to get Marcus to stop talking and just keep fucking him. But Marcus seemed to have anticipated this and moved with him, still managing not to slip out but coming too close to it for Tomas’ comfort. He wanted this. He needed this. 

“Be fucking honest with yourself, Tomas. Come on, confess your sins to me and I promise the last thing I’ll give you is absolution.”

Tomas clenched the sheets in his fists, thought of Jessica, the kindness in her eyes, the smoothness of her skin. She was no innocent, and yet she could not (would not) comprehend the conflict within Tomas’ heart. But Marcus . . . Marcus could.

“Yes.” Tomas grit out, eyes open wide, his face turned toward Marcus as much as he could manage with the man’s weight on his back. “Yes, I wanted to fuck her.”

Marcus moaned and pushed back in, fucked Tomas hard, fucked him fast. Tomas let him, thrust his hips against the mattress and didn’t bother trying to get a hand around his own erection. He didn’t need it, just needed this. Needed this almost cruel reminder that he wasn’t going to be able to do anyone any good in this life, priest or not, if he didn’t admit to himself that while his desires may not always be healthy, he wanted them anyway—was likely to still take them, when offered, no matter the costs.

And what he desired right now was to push backwards, fuck himself on Marcus’ cock, rub himself off on the sheets beneath him, come hard enough to not give a damn about the consequences—about Jessica, about Casey, about himself. He wanted Marcus to come inside him, to leave that piece of himself behind, to know that they were in this together even if they ended up hating each other.

Marcus didn’t disappoint. He eagerly answered Tomas’ thrusts with his own, fucked into him without caution, and Tomas felt his orgasm building quickly and he welcomed it, chased it, found it and reached back to grab at Marcus’ hip, urging him on to his own climax. 

When it was over, they lay still as their recovering bodies would allow. Marcus was apparently none too eager to leave Tomas’ body, and he kept his hips pressed tight against Tomas. Tomas was perfectly fine with that, but as his mind cleared he couldn’t help but wonder.

“Earlier, you said . . . you said that I have too much to lose. You called me a good man like it was a detriment.”

Marcus shifted his head and gently kissed the back of Tomas’ neck, so unlike how they’d fucked. “Yes, I did. I still think it’s true.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Marcus rolled off and out of Tomas, moving slowly and still the slight physical pain of it took Tomas by surprise. His breath hitched and his body tensed but Marcus didn’t reach out, didn’t offer any more comforting kisses, just lay there on his back and said tiredly, “I also told you I was an envious man. All the reasons that make you a good one, they don’t exist for me.”

“Then what does?”

Marcus turned his head sharply, and Tomas felt like hiding from that gaze. He didn’t see envy, but a heavy disappointment. Towards Tomas or himself, Tomas didn’t know. Whatever was behind that look, Tomas felt suddenly and entirely sure that Marcus wouldn’t share it, not yet.

“I found Casey,” Marcus said, exhaustion and unease present in each syllable. “She’s secure, for now. As for the rest of us . . .” Marcus turned away and rubbed his hands over his face. 

Tomas sat up, growing ever more aware that this was a conversation he’d rather have with clothes on. But he didn’t bother to cover himself, not when Marcus didn’t seem to care at all that he was splayed out naked and still sweaty on Tomas’ bed. 

“What can I do?” Tomas asked. _What will you let me do?_

But Marcus didn’t answer. He pulled Tomas back down, pulled him on top of his body, and kissed him. His hands moved down Tomas’ back and his fingers sank back inside Tomas’ body and—

Maybe Marcus didn’t need—or didn’t want—a good man performing exorcisms; maybe Tomas wasn’t as good a man as Marcus perceived. Maybe whether or not Tomas convinced Marcus to let him help with another exorcism didn't matter, not if Tomas decided that’s what he was going to do, that’s what he desired. 

As Tomas rolled onto his back and allowed his legs to be manhandled over Marcus’ shoulders, he thought maybe all of it—every single _maybe_ —was something that Marcus already knew.

**end**


End file.
